


Sway

by legendofthesevenstars



Series: FE Femslash February 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Personal Growth, Post-Canon, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthesevenstars/pseuds/legendofthesevenstars
Summary: Leonie and Marianne leave their country farm to travel to Sauin Village, where they run into Catherine and Shamir. During the journey and their stay, Marianne reflects on her growth and her and Leonie's love for each other. The next day, Leonie surprises Marianne by carrying through on a promise she made years ago when they were still students.
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand, Marianne von Edmund/Leonie Pinelli
Series: FE Femslash February 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620289
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> This is my last piece for Femslash February 2020! I've read so many great fics this month, and I'm really thankful that my pieces could make readers happy, too! :-)
> 
> Marianne/Leonie is my favorite femslash pairing from FE3H, and what's better than one femslash pairing? Two, of course!

Leonie always rose with the sun. Even in retirement, some habits were hard to break. The light rustle of the covers and the shuffle of Leonie getting dressed always woke Marianne, though she’d keep her eyes closed, listen for the creak of the door being shut, and then try to get back to sleep. But this morning, she was twenty minutes back into trying to get to sleep when the smell of yesterday’s bread warming in the oven, and the sound of eggs sizzling, woke her.

She opened her eyes to the lavender dawn peeking through the gap in the thick curtains. Blinking a few times, she stretched, pushing herself up with one hand and pulling pieces of hair out of her mouth. Half of the covers were on Leonie’s side, a few orange strands lingered on her warm pillow, and the necklace that held her wooden charm stood on the nightstand. Simply having another person in the house still felt new to Marianne. Slowly, she was getting used to Leonie always being here, at home, with her.

Marianne stood up, straightened out her nightgown, and walked downstairs in bare feet. Leonie stood at the stove, dressed in a sleeveless dark green button-down, black shorts, and brown hunting boots.

“Morning, Marianne.”

She blew her overlong bangs out of her face, then pushed them to the side with her free hand. She hadn’t brushed her hair yet, and it lay unkempt, reaching the middle of her neck, having grown out after she’d shaved it off a few years ago. Marianne had cut hers short then, too, and now it had grown just past her shoulders.

“Why are you making breakfast so early?” Marianne walked over to the stove, placing her open palm between Leonie’s shoulderblades.

“I’d like to take you somewhere today.”

Marianne withdrew her hand in surprise. “Today?”

“That’s right. It’s not a long way, but we’d better get going.”

“What about the chickens?”

“Raphael and Ignatz are coming.” She flipped the eggs over. “They’ll be looking after the chickens and watering the garden. I told them they can eat the eggs in exchange for their help. And whatever they want around the house.”

“Do we need to take any food with us?”

“Nope. Where we’re going, we’ll have our fill of the good stuff. And maybe take some home, too.”

“Are we going to take Dorte?”

“Yep. Going on foot would take too long.” She bent over and checked the oven, then stood back up, frowning as she inspected her forearm. “Annabella was cranky today. She scratched me.” Turning to Marianne, she showed her wrist. There was a light red scratch across it. The muscles in her wrist were thick, her fingers dry and callused, a thick white scar at the bend of her elbow. “Kiss it better for me?”

Never teasing, always forthright and totally serious. Marianne bent her head to kiss the red scratch, then felt lips on her scalp.

Marianne’s head shot up. “What the—I wasn’t expecting that!”

“Got you!” Leonie smirked before she turned back to the stove. “Could you help me peel these potatoes, by the way? I’ve already cut up some peppers and onions to fry with them. Peeler’s right there.”

She picked up the peeler, staring at it for a moment before she turned her head to look at Leonie, standing there with her hand on the pan’s handle. Her bangs were falling in her eyes, her hair mussed from sleep. Her shirt was untucked, and whenever she bent down or stood up a small strip of skin showed. If they weren’t cooking breakfast, if they had the time, Marianne would pull her close, forehead to forehead, hold her and be held, sway with her, laugh with her. Forget the plans, forget the day and forget what had come before and what would come after, because Leonie had finally come home for good, and here they were, two women in love, living on a farm in the middle of nowhere in the vast green countryside.

—

Leonie insisted she knew the way, for which Marianne was thankful. Her sense of direction was keen from her days as a mercenary. Taking the reins, she let Leonie guide her when necessary. The sun was cresting the gentle hills of the countryside. Wildflowers were in full bloom; grass and weeds grew untrimmed; rabbits, mice, and voles scurried around as insects and birds awoke. Everything was alive; everything was flourishing.

Half her life ago, she’d wondered every day whether she’d live to see another dawn. But the singing of the birds, the blossoming of new flowers, the smell of wet earth after rain—the promise that life and nature would go on—had encouraged her to stay alive, until the day when she could flourish herself. Surrounded by the beauty of summer’s peak, with the arms of the woman she loved around her waist, she felt that something as bright as the sun, perfect as a rose, mysterious as a spiderweb was unfurling inside her, that some promise would be delivered to her on this very day that had nothing to do with the deliverance she’d hoped for as a teenager.

Leonie loosened her arms from Marianne’s waist and sat up. “Hey, look over there. Raspberry bushes.” She pointed to their left.

Marianne followed her finger. A fence walled in a large pasture populated by horses, goats, and sheep, and, on their side, thorny bushes with small red berries. She guided Dorte over to the bushes, easing herself off his back and offering her hand to Leonie. When Leonie’s feet were on the ground, Marianne let go of her hand and walked over to the bushes, inspecting the berries.

Leonie’s voice was suddenly in her ear. “Oh, damn it. Ow.” She sucked on her finger briefly. “I always end up doing that.”

“Did it draw blood?” Marianne hovered over her finger.

“Remember what I told you, Mari. You don’t have to. Honestly, look at all the scrapes I’ve gotten in.” She showed off her bare arms, curling her wrists in slightly. Underneath her skin the muscle was taut and firm, and the white scar on the inside of her elbow stood out in the sunlight. “I just got poked. No big.”

“Of—of course.”

Marianne looked through the bushes, picking bright red berries and placing them in her left hand. She popped one in her mouth as she looked, and felt Leonie’s rough fingertips brush her hand just slightly to grab a berry, and then another.

“Hey, look here,” Leonie said. There was a raspberry pinched between Leonie’s fingers, held at eye level between them. “You want it?”

And though Marianne’s palm was stained red and the taste of raspberries was fresh in her mouth, she leaned in, and as she bit down on the berry, Leonie’s hand was gone, replaced instead by her lips. Marianne’s gasp was swallowed in the kiss as her palm uncurled, the raspberries falling from her hand and into the grass. The sweetness of the juice lingered in their mouths; Leonie’s breath was hot, her lips soft against Marianne’s dry ones. The sunlight made her hair warm, and she smelled like sweat, grass, and raspberries.

Marianne broke away to breathe. Leonie’s hand remained on the back of Marianne’s neck, the tips of their noses nearly touching. She reached down into Marianne’s open palm with her other hand, her callused fingers tickling Marianne’s slightly sticky palm, feeling around and frowning when she couldn’t find another berry.

Marianne swallowed. “Um, I dropped them.”

“Don’t worry,” Leonie whispered, closing the almost nonexistent gap between their faces, one hand drifting to Marianne’s waist. “We can always pick more.”

When their lips parted and they let go of each other, Leonie smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and turned around, making her way toward the pasture. Marianne could finally catch her breath for a moment. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her hands shaking. Leonie stood at the fence, where a large brown stallion was bending its head, and she was patting its snout. Beyond the stallion, there was a foal walking alongside its mother, weak in the knees, stumbling, but trying to stand. Marianne steadied herself against Dorte, her heartbeat evening out, and waited for Leonie to turn back around and join her.

—

Leonie’s directions led them to a small country town, a gathering of half-timbered houses that stood out among the many pastures and open fields. As they entered town, Leonie hopped off of Dorte, and Marianne followed her lead.

People, some stout and wide, some tall and muscular, all dressed plainly with short haircuts, greeted Leonie with “Hey, kid” or “Nice to see ya,” and she waved to each as she passed by, addressing some by name. Market stalls were set up here and there, where people were bartering or paying petty amounts for tools and hunting gear. Families, couples, and friends alike chatted animatedly with each other, and always spared a smile and a wave when they bumped into each other. No one was a stranger. Everything about this town, about these people had the same practical and humble, and especially friendly, air that Leonie had. People slouched, people laughed too loud, people smiled with their teeth, people weren’t afraid of a little dirt.

While living in her adoptive father’s estate, Marianne had been taught to keep her spine straight, address people with respect, and always act pleasant. She’d hated every bit of that, and not only because she’d hated herself so deeply. So she’d slouched, spoken her mind, and struggled to engage people in even the most basic polite conversation. But after she had abandoned her nobility—having given Maurice the peace he sought, destroyed Blutgang, and dissolved House Edmund—she began to realize how at home with common ways of life she felt. She hadn’t seen people so welcoming since she’d walked into the Golden Deer classroom ten years ago. Though her classmates couldn’t have truly understood her pain, they had been willing to look past her Crest and encourage her to shrug off her burden. Some of them, like Leonie, hadn’t even cared that she had a Crest at all. To Leonie, to the people of Sauin Village, Marianne’s Crest meant nothing, and it felt so _liberating_.

Leonie bought a room at the inn, then tied Dorte in the stables and took Marianne by the hand, leading her through the streets. They came to a short flight of stairs that ended in a small door. A dark, narrow staircase opened to a dim tavern with a low ceiling with exposed beams and, for the middle of the afternoon, a sizable crowd. Marianne felt her chest tighten being around so many unfamiliar people, but the excitement on Leonie’s face calmed her down a little.

An accordion crooned in tandem with a fiddle’s high wail. The jingle of a tambourine rose above the noise, and now and then, a loud whoop cut through the music. People were dancing across the floor, kicking up their heels, hands on hips, swaying and jumping around in ways she’d never seen before. Laughs and hoots filled the small space; patrons seated at tables and at the bar were turned toward the crowd, clapping along to the beat, clinking tankards of beer together and lifting the froth-topped mugs to their lips.

Leonie hooked her arm in Marianne’s and snaked around the crowd’s edge to the bar, sitting down on a stool and gesturing for Marianne to do the same. Marianne frowned, turning to Leonie as Leonie shouted, “Hey, Aileen!” to catch the bartender’s attention.

“You’re not here to order—?”

“Don’t worry,” Leonie said. “When I said I kicked the habit, I meant it.”

A short, muscular woman with a light brown face and dark brown hair and eyes made her way over to them. “Hey there, Leonie! It’s been a while! Good to see you.”

“Same to you!” They bumped fists.

“What can I get y’all?”

“Just some water for the both of us.” Leonie fanned herself by lifting up her shirt. Her hair was already pasted to the back of her neck, dark stains gathering at her underarms.

“Aww, that’s all? Not even a little red wine for the lovers?” She winked at Marianne.

Marianne was about to give Leonie permission to order alcohol, but Leonie’s firm “nah” made her change her mind. It had been a long time since Leonie had had a drink, and if anything, she was stubborn and would want to keep her streak going.

Then someone to Leonie’s left shouted, “Hey, it’s Leonie and Marianne!”

Marianne looked over Leonie’s head, caught a flash of pale blonde hair and dark blue hair, and then she gasped.

“Whoa, Catherine! And Shamir!” Leonie stood up and gave them each a handshake. “What brings you guys this way?”

“Marianne,” Shamir said from behind Catherine with a nod. Marianne smiled faintly in return.

The two women had aged gracefully, well into their forties but still strong and elegant, clad in the jackets and tights of hunters, covered with the armor of mercs. It reminded her of the last time she’d seen Judith, whose wrinkles multiplied every few years, but she remained as stunning a sight as the last time Marianne had seen her. Marianne was sure Leonie’s beauty would continue to eclipse any other woman’s into her later years. Now that she’d stopped working as a mercenary and drinking, and she was living in peace on the farm, she’d probably be around to see her fifties, sixties, and beyond.

“We’re taking a break,” Catherine explained as Shamir called the bartender over. “You were pretty smart to get out of it when you did. Work’s dry these days.”

“But not too dry,” Shamir said. “Felix is making more work for us with all his rivalries.”

Leonie snorted. “Glad to hear he’s keeping himself busy. How’s the kid? Is he hanging in there?”

“Actually, Cyril’s on break, too.” Shamir accepted a tiny glass of something clear from the bartender. “He went over the border, through the Path of Unity—you know, where the Locket used to be—and he’s in Almyra visiting King Claude.”

Catherine shrugged. “He claimed he wanted to track down family, but I doubt he’ll find anyone.” Shamir tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around and accepted her mug of beer.

“What about you two?” Leonie asked.

“Going west,” Shamir said. “To Dagda.”

“Awesome, so you’re going home, too!”

Shamir smiled mischievously. “That’s what I keep telling her. Eventually we’ll settle down. One day, right?”

Catherine stuttered, grasping the handle of her mug tightly as Shamir downed her shot without a flinch. “I suppose you could look at it that way.” She furrowed her brow. “But I’m not going to ‘settle down’ until peace is brought to Fódlan. Even if I’m a mercenary now, I’ll always be a Knight of Seiros at heart.”

Shamir mumbled something that Marianne couldn’t hear over the noise of the crowd. Catherine responded with “HEY!” and Leonie burst into laughter, making Marianne smile.

“ _Any_ way,” Catherine sneered over her shoulder with the slightest lingering fondness as she turned back toward Leonie and Marianne, “aren’t you gonna order any drinks, you two? Come on, my wife said she’ll pick up the tab!” She pointed back to Shamir with her free thumb. “You will, won’t you, partner?”

Shamir scoffed. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that sometimes I can’t turn you down, and sometimes you won’t _let_ me turn you down.”

“Don’t say that in front of the girls,” Catherine “whispered,” still within earshot of even Marianne.

Ignoring her, Shamir said, “Leonie came for the dancing. Right?”

Leonie nodded. “I sure did.” She turned to face Marianne.

Marianne tensed. She’d heard enough from Shamir before about Leonie’s drunken footwork. Despite that they were both sober, she still expected to have her feet stepped on.

Catherine had shed her embarrassment for a cheery expression. “As soon as this mug’s all gone, Shamir and I are coming right out with you.” As Leonie got up from her seat, Catherine slapped her on the shoulder. “Good to see both of you! I always thought you two might get together. Have fun!”

“Thanks!” Leonie chirped. Marianne couldn’t help blushing at Catherine’s comment.

Leonie offered her hands to Marianne, and Marianne looked out over the crowd, cautiously observing the people dancing, sweat beading on their red faces, carousing with joy.

“Come on!” Leonie said, smiling.

Marianne grabbed her hands and squeaked as she was dragged onto the dance floor. Leonie spun her around, dipping her before letting her go, swaying and tapping her feet, hands on her hips, whooping along with the song.

“Let your soul free, Mari!” She grabbed Marianne’s hand, twirling her around again.

And then Marianne didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, she was swaying along, her heels and heart falling in time with the beat. She was smiling, and the smile was creeping up her cheeks, and she was giggling. The people around her faded; the smells of sweat and beer faded; her body moved on its own—all that was left was the music and Leonie. When Leonie lifted her, she looked back to the bar, and Shamir waved with a smile, her hand locked in Catherine’s free hand, Catherine’s other hand still cradling her tankard. In Leonie’s arms, she felt like she was flying, like she could transcend her past and her earthly life, leave it behind her.

Then she fell back down to earth, and the song ended, and her heart was thrumming in her chest. She was so alive, so alive, blood rushing through her veins, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in to hug Leonie, skin against skin, breath and sweat, the life so strong in her she thought it would burst out and rush toward the sky.

—

The bed in the inn was warm, the blanket just a little scratchy and worn. Tomorrow there would be fresh oatmeal for breakfast, and hay for Dorte. The inn had a little restaurant of its own, where they served roasted sausages with freshly harvested onions and flat slices of potatoes soaked in vinegar. The dish’s simplicity made it perfect. After a cup of tea, they walked up to bed and changed. Leonie got in bed first, leaving Marianne to stare out the window for a moment.

“Is that everything you wanted to show me today?” she said, walking back to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Leonie opened her eyes. She was lying on her side, head half-buried in her pillow. “Almost. There’s two more things to do tomorrow.”

“Two more things? You’ve already done so much for me.”

“And I’ll do more.” She lazily reached out her arm to pat Marianne’s thigh, which was closest to her. “Don’t you forget that.” She yawned. “Oh, I’m exhausted. Guess the long trip and all that dancing gave me a good workout.” She snorted. “I keep thinking about when Catherine tripped. Can you believe she’s like that after only one beer? Some things never change.”

Marianne smiled faintly. Some things never changed. Catherine had tripped more than once at her wedding, but Shamir had steadied her each time. If Shamir was injured on the battlefield during the war, Catherine had been right there to avenge her. They had supported each other ever since Marianne and Leonie’s school days. And now that they were sharing their life with each other, they would always be there to pick each other back up.

She and Leonie had talked about a wedding, now and then. It had always been a possibility, not quite a promise. She wanted to mold her love into a promise. That wonderful feeling growing inside her, she wanted it to last, wanted to share all the love she felt with Leonie for the rest of their lives.

Marianne took Leonie’s outstretched hand in hers. “Can we dance like that at our wedding?” she whispered.

“Huh? Yeah, of course. I thought you’d at least want a slow dance for our first dance. Plus, nobles in attendance and all?”

“I don’t think that’s really what I would want.”

She wanted to feel as free as she had felt in the tavern, as free as being by Leonie’s side made her feel. She wasn’t a noble anymore; she just wanted to be Marianne. Just Marianne, and just Leonie.

“Whatever floats your boat, Mari,” Leonie mumbled, closing her eyes. Within minutes, she was snoring.

Marianne sighed and kissed the top of Leonie’s head. Tucking her in, she changed into her nightgown and climbed under the covers to join her.

—

The lavender sky heralded another early morning. It was strange waking up in a bed that wasn’t her own, but Leonie was by her side. They dressed and ate their oatmeal, then Marianne headed outside to check on Dorte. Soon, Leonie was leading her to the outskirts, past the market stalls and to another open field.

“Are we already leaving town?” Marianne asked.

“Nope. We’re going somewhere special.”

“Special? Where’s that?”

“Remember when we were in school, and I wanted you to come shopping with me and you—you weren’t in a good place, and I got mad at you, but then I came and apologized to you? I don’t know if you still think about it sometimes, but I always remember it, because I made a promise to you that day.”

“The flowers. You wanted to show me the flowers of your hometown.”

Of course she hadn’t forgotten. Despite Leonie blowing up at her the day before, she’d come to check on her. She had been nothing but patient with Marianne when she had been at her worst. She had never truly thanked her for that, and for all the support she’d given her during the war. But she knew she didn’t need to thank her. She would insist it was nothing special, and that Marianne was just as deserving of love as anyone else, and Marianne had been slowly accepting that as her new truth, struggling over the past ten years. And during that struggle, Leonie had always been by her side as Marianne came into herself, doing the job that Marianne had never asked anyone to do, had never _expected_ anyone to do.

“And now I can deliver on that promise,” Leonie said.

A vast field spread before them, swimming with flowers, grass, bugs, and birds, thick with life in the foggy dawn. Purple, yellow, blue, white, pink—flowers of all colors, all shapes and sizes, covered the field. They spread over an area that had to be nearly as large as the village itself, if not larger. But most breathtaking of all were the orange and red flowers that came up from the ground, with petals like drops of blood.

When Marianne pointed to them, Leonie explained, “Poppies, for the war dead,” and a solemnity overcame both of them, as Marianne thought about how hard they had fought to get here, and the real and figurative blood that had been shed.

After a quiet moment passed, Leonie said, “We have one more stop. I want to take you to see my parents. But first, I have an important question to ask you.”

Marianne waited, eyes still on the poppies swaying in the breeze. When she didn’t hear anything, she turned to her left, and there was a small wooden box in Leonie’s hands, open on its hinge, and inside glimmered a silver band, thin, but the perfect size for her ring finger.

“Will you be my wife, Marianne?”

Marianne opened her mouth to speak. When nothing came out, and her eyes were watering, she simply held out her hand, her heart beating in her throat. As Leonie slid the band on, she lifted her finger to inspect the ring in the light of the dawn, and before she began to cry, she smiled, and buried her head in Leonie’s shoulder. Leonie squeezed her tightly and kissed her cheek over and over, and they swayed back and forth as Marianne sobbed, first speechless, then incoherent.

The grand, incomprehensible mystery growing inside of her had now unfurled, a banner proclaiming to all the world how strong she had become, and how much she had grown since she was seventeen. And when they loosened their embrace and they kissed again, her heart soared, proud of herself, and proud of this woman that she would soon call her wife.

“I love you,” Leonie whispered, meeting Marianne’s eyes, holding her face in her hands with a searching, slightly awed gaze.

“And I love you,” Marianne replied. “I can’t wait to meet your parents.” She smiled.


End file.
